


I'll Never Let You Go

by irllink (orphan_account)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Theyre gay, im gay, nobody deserved a happy ending more than they did
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9608285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/irllink
Summary: In which Piers survives and asks Chris for a dance, even if it is in the kitchen in the middle of the night.





	

_“You're just too good to be true._  
                        Can't take my eyes off of you.”  
  
            “Captain.”  
  
            The word is met with something of a laugh, “You don’t have to call me that anymore.”  
__  
“Habit,” Piers replies with his own chuckle, “You know this song, er,” he pauses for a moment, pointing a thumb over his shoulder to the speaker, “Chris?”  
  
            “Uhh…” Chris looks to the side in thought, almost scowling, “Frankie Valli, right?”  
            Piers’s face lights up, a smile—something that was once rare—brightening his face, “Hey, that’s right.”  
  
            “You know what, I’ll bite,” Chris leans back in the kitchen chair, “how come?”  
__  
Piers stands, offers his one hand, “You dance?”  
  
            Chris’s eyes fall to his hand, scowl still set in place, his expression perhaps a little surprised, but it quickly softens with another laugh, this one loud and amused. “No,” he replies, shaking his head and still smiling, “no, I don’t. Nice try, though.”  
  
            “Come on,” Piers grins, “Nobody’s here to see the great Chris Redfield dance to swing but me.” He shakes his own hand a little, still trying to get him to take it. Chris raises an eyebrow, but nonetheless takes it and stands as well.  
  
            Piers stands closely, wishing he could take his other hand and begins to sway, “Not so hard, huh?”  
  
            “What, you want me to spin you, Cinderella?” Chris tries for another glare, or something—anything other than the gentle face he actually makes, the small smile threatening to grow. Piers laughs a little, hiding his face in the crook of Chris’s neck.  
  
            “I wouldn’t stop you,” he replies, looking up again. “Wait, wait,” the pre-chorus trumpets kick in, “ready? One, two, three, four,” stepping in time, “one, two, three, four…”  
  
            “When in hell did you have the time for dance lessons?”  
  
            “Sorry? No, no, Captain, I’ve never—”  
  
            Chris laughs before he even jokes, “So, what, you just danced in the mirror and picked it up?” Completely absentmindedly, he squeezes Piers’s hand, “I’m joking.” Piers turns red ever so slightly, but squeezes back, falling silent for a bit. “Hey, you’re the one who started toe-tapping, you can’t close up on me now.”  
  
            “…This is nice.” Piers finally replies, “I never really thought I’d get to dance with you, even if it is in the kitchen, in the middle of the night.”  
  
            Chris tries thinking of his own reply, but all he can manage is, “I never thought I’d do this, either, especially two minutes ago. You’re awfully persuasive lately.”  
  
            “Maybe you’re just becoming a big softie,” Piers laugh is cut off by a short gasp caused by Chris, embarrassed maybe, yanking him close so they don’t have to look at each other anymore.  
  
            “…Shut up,” but it’s said softly.  
  
            The song ends, trailing off, and Piers drops Chris’s hand, opting to simply wrap his remaining arm around him. “Thanks for dancing with me, Captain.”  
  
            Chris forgets what to do with his arms at first, but remembers slowly, one arm resting around his waist, the other hand on the back of Piers’s head. “You’re not so bad, even if you do only have one arm left.”  
  
            Piers smiles, laughs through his nose, “Wish I had two, still, Captain. Two eyes, too, so I could see you better.” He thinks of the makeshift eyepatch he wears—a small bandage pad and some medical tape—and thinks to himself that he ought to get a real one soon.  
  
            It’s nice, they both think, after everything…that they get to do this. They get to just stand here in the kitchen in the dead of night, holding each other, speaking perhaps gentler than they usually do. Chris remembers when Piers returned, when he came back…when he was able to see him again after the amputation and surgical nonsense that he couldn’t understand if he tried, after the tests and the reassurance that Piers was still Piers. He remembers hugging him as tight as he could without hurting him, and just letting a few tears spill over, not caring anymore. He remembers thinking _, I’ll never let you go._  
  
            As he stands in the kitchen, holding Piers, Piers holding him back, this is a thought that returns to him.  
  



End file.
